And yet she loved all things
French, loved being in France.
When we went there en famille
after the war she exclaimed
continuously on its marvelous
Frenchness, everything was just
as French as she remembered it -
'Look,' she said, as we drove
away from the boat through Cal-
ais, 'the very streets - the
cars, a Citroën, James! - oh,
a gendarme, and there, the lit-
tle outside lavatory, they're
called pissoires, and you see
the wine shops - James, see the
windows! all that wine - and the
pavement cafés and there's a pâ-
tisserie' - she said the word
with such a French flourish -
'you boys have never tasted a
real French pâtisserie - do stop,
James, and we'll have a pâtisser-
ie, the boys can have their first
tarte aux pommes!'
James stopped, and she led us
to the little shop, its open
counter just off the pavement
laden with cakes, fruit tarts,
&c, the smell of their recent
baking hanging in the warm air,
and it's certainly true that
Nigel and I had never seen such
a display, not smelt such smells
- 'peach, pear, apple,' she said,
'apricot, fraises, framboises -
and that's the one I'll have' -
she gestured at it, one of her
grand gestures - 'the black-
berry!' and a swarm of flies
rose up from it, leaving not a
blackberry but a plain custard
tart - ...
Simon Gray
The Last Cigarette
Granta, 2008©
This volume in the
"Smoking Diaries"
was nominated by
the Head Master
of Eton for Hey-
wood Hill's List
of 100 Something-
or-Other. Fright-
ening to consider,
one could have
missed it.
Fionn Creber
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